Last Words
by Riks-Que
Summary: You've heard them haven't you? The voices of past Arisens' echoing in the dark places of Bitterblack Isle. All that is left of their adventures were their last tormented thoughts as they lay dying. But who were they? Read on to find out.
1. Resignation

Inspired by some of the last words of the Arisens on Bitterblack Isle.

Last Words

_None of it matters now. None of it. Pray leave me to sleep in peace._

"My tale?" Barroch sat down on the small wooden bench opposite me. He absently weighed one of his golden daggers in his hand before fixing me with a piercing stare. "I told you. I was an Apothecary before I became an Arisen…" I'd heard this before. He'd appeared, quite suddenly at the short cut to the main entrance to Bitterblack Isle. Foolishly his appearance there gave me hope. Barroch had clearly been on the island for some time and if he could survive, so could I.

His story began much as mine had. "I came from a small village on the coast. You won't know it. The odd brick might still standing." He trailed off with a slightly sinister tone in his gruff voice. "It was a sunny day, not a cloud in the sky. Then suddenly the wind picks up. A mighty wind blowing from the sea." His face twists into a smile. "I needn't describe how the dragon flattened every house with one beat of his wings? Or how he ripped me open and plucked my still beating heart from my chest? I thought not." He paused for a moment and narrowed his eyes. Then he stood and turned his back on me. Looking at him I could tell he had folded his arms. Suddenly I was reminded of something the Dragon said.

"If you wanted to live you had naught but to hide yourself away." I said slowly. Barroch glanced at me.

"Met the beast have you? Offers a compelling choice doesn't he?" he said gruffly. "Very few survived the Dragon's coming to my village." He continued. "Those that did blamed me for the Dragon's coming. Said I was dabbling in witchcraft not alchemy."

"They drove you away."

"I left." He smiled with that ironic smile. "The feeling was mutual." He became silent as though he didn't intend to continue. Slowly I rose to my feet and crossed the distance that separated us. As I was about to place a hand on his shoulder, he caught it and gave me a hard look. I looked down and returned to the bench. I could still feel his eyes watching me carefully as I sat.

"You didn't go after the Dragon?" I asked him. For a moment I thought he wouldn't answer.

"Why should I?" He said with a shrug. The casual nature of his answer angered me. I could feel my temper rising.

"To get your heart back!" I growled. "To take back what is yours!"

"There is your mistake. And the Dragon's. I didn't have a heart to take."

His admission astounded me. It must have shown on my face as he laughed dryly and explained.

"One beat of the Dragon's wings took everything away. My heart? Nothing after that." He regained his seat opposite and leaned back on the rough stone wall. In the distance I could hear the trickle of water, the life giving spring which ran just outside. There were other noises, just beyond hearing. Sounds of large creatures growling and moaning as they moved through the labyrinth. Occasionally there was a roar, and the sounds of stones and rubble smashing to the ground. Then silence. An all pervading quiet which is somehow even more disconcerting.

Bitterblack Isle is a place of shadows, not just monsters. There is a dark that persists even through the hours of supposed daylight. The voices of pasts Arisens have been my constant companions on my journey through Bitterblack isle. Their thoughts as they died in the darkness hounding my footsteps. I know Barroch has heard them too; Arisen's who came to the Isle in the hoping for something, looking for something. I was drawn to the Isle by Orla. She was driven here by something she can't remember.

"I travelled the land looking for herbs and the like." Barroch continued.

"What about your pawn?" I asked. I wondered about the shadows in the room. Were they getting longer? Barroch looked away from me.

"I didn't ask to be an Arisen."

"Neither did I." I retorted sharply. He smiled at me.

"Some spirit left, eh? Surprising." He said this more to himself than to me. "Soon I knew every herb and ore Gransys had to offer. I wanted more."

"You were looking for something?"

"This island has herbs unseen anywhere else. Ore and metals not found anywhere. I've seen more gold and treasure to rot my eyes."

"But not without your pawn." I said.

"I wouldn't ask a man to do what I do. Lead this life. Think I would ask someone who has no choice in the matter?"

"What happened to your pawn?"

I persisted, I had to know. I was clinging on to any piece of information he would give. His voice held me here and each second was precious. Barroch narrowed his eyes.

"I travelled. After a time he started to get on my back about facing the Dragon. No will? No soul? I know that isn't true. So do you."

It is said that pawn have no will of their own. Their will is directed by the Arisen, but travelling with them, talking with them it was difficult not to see them as human. They seemed to act on their own, have their own opinions how could they not be? Sometimes they seemed more real than anyone else.

"I lived for my work. I've been here half an age and I've barely scraped the surface."

"What happened to him?"

At last Barroch relented.

"He was my pawn and my friend." He trailed into silence. "He grew dissatisfied with my wanderings and thirst for knowledge. He wanted me to face the dragon. My wanderings 'were not befitting an Arisen'." He laughed dryly. "What did he know in the end? The dragon offered immortality. Eternity was mine to learn everything. All I had to do was stay away."

Barroch smiled wryly. "The monsters here make the ones on the mainland seem like child's play don't they? There are creatures here that defy reason. Even the rooms linking one to another is mad. More like the work of some diabolic imagination." He sighed. "What do you think happened to him? What happened to yours, eh?"

"There are rift stone here why didn't you bring him back?"

Barroch didn't reply to this, but he didn't have to. His gruff manner, his cynical point of view was a show he put on to the world. He probably excused himself in his own mind, absolving himself from any guilt.

I rose slowly. The room tilted alarmingly, I remain still breathing deeply for a moment.

"Three days to a week eh?" I said sardonically. The room luckily remained steady and I walked towards the hole through which Barroch had carried me. I carried on walking, heedless of direction. My pawns were gone, thankfully their deaths were quick at least. They gave their lives that I might carry on. My own pawn was the last to go. Barroch was right, she might have had no will at the start but towards the end she was more human than I. This place was the devils own labyrinth, with endless pits and stench of death. Rotting flesh littered the floor, the smell of it turning the stomach. Barroch's words as I left the refuge still rung in my ears.

"You'll be dying soon."

"I'll try not to make the place look untidy."

"No matter. Your voice will join the chorus of others, no doubt."

Why did I come? This place of eternal night, where corridors twist and the dark plays games with your mind? The monsters here made those on Gransys look like a nursery! Maybe the dragon was right, those whose courted death found it. I slumped against a wall, my legs finally gave up their strength. It didn't matter now. None of it matters now. None of it. Pray leave me to sleep in peace.


	2. Arrogance

2

Arrogance

Voices linger here. I heard them as soon as I entered this cursed place. But they were cowards, I told myself, or ill-prepared. I would conquer this place! It would be my gloryl! I would leave this place having discovered it's secrets and it treasures for myself!

My pawn would only hold me back, the fool. He advised caution, not to go charging in with high expectations. But what did he know? Their kind are hollow, empty. They parrot the same stupid phrases and do the same nonsensical things. After a while, I came to ignore him. He was useful for carrying things only and got in my way when it came to fighting.

"There is no shame in fleeing..." He would say, or words to that effect. No shame? NO SHAME?! Fleeing is an admission of failure! And I did not fail!

A poor farmer's boy, no one believed I could slay the dragon the tore my heart from my breast! But I showed them! I grew! It was I who made the roads safe and cleared them of monsters! And my reward? Disbelief and scorn!

I welcomed the challenge of this island. For no-one...NO ONE would question my abilities when I returned victorious. My pawn...well what can I say? He advised caution!

And it began well. Our boat moored at the small jetty. The pawn, Orla I think her name was pleaded for my help in ridding this island of it's many monsters, of course I accepted. In the first hallway I was attacked by oversized diseased dogs. My pawn named them as wargs. They were fast and strong, stronger than I expected. Still I managed to kill them. Then came Goblins. These too were much bigger and so much stronger. I was overwhelmed. And my pawn...my pawn managed to drag me away. We had some respite in the Duskmoon tower and there we came across another Arisen. His appearance startled me, as did his attitude. His was happy here. He was a dabbler in potions. It was clear to me he had been here for some time, and knew the place well, so I eagerly invited him to join me. Ours would be the glory when we conquered this place! He looked at me as though I was nothing more than the dirt on his shoe. Fame and glory? He didn't want either. He wanted to study this place. Fine then! I would conquer this place on my own!

Oh say fool! Say arrogant fool! As green as fields near my village was I, and yet still greener! Now the darkness creeps towards me, the voices of the dead seem closer...

Through the next set of doors was nothing but death. Skeletons attacked, wave upon wave of those foul beings. They were restless. They just kept attacking! Their empty eyes glaring at me with murderous glee.

And my pawn! My poor pawn! So loyal to the last! A loyalty I didn't deserve and never earned! At the last he threw himself in the path of the last of attackers. It was enough. I slew the thing with a vehement glee! But my pawn didn't make it. He slumped to the ground. I ran to him, and placed his head on my lap.

"Master..." He said to me smiling as the life left his eyes. There were piles of bones around me, they stretched into the distance as far as the eye could see. I sat with my back against the wall. My loyal, dead pawn in my arms. How many others would die? How many had died? What was the point?!

I can bare to see no more death. Call me craven if you will, I'll go no further. I grow so very tired.


	3. Acceptance

**Acceptance**

"_I am not afeared to die in this place. But I would not wish this fate on any other."_

I am bled deep. The cold stone floor, soaked with my blood, glistens black in the moonlight. The shadows lengthen and form dark wisps, like fingers, reaching for my soul. I can hear shrieks and awful groans that grow louder as they approach, and the light from my lantern slowly fails. I try to remember the sun, the feeling of warmth on my skin, the light in my eyes, the glitter on the sea…

I'm cold, it seeps into my bones and I have forgotten what it is like to be warm. Far above I can see light. But it is not daylight, but the rays from the ever present moon reaching through the rock. The white light illuminates the tall tower which stands and the end of a crumbling bridge I see before me. A bridge I will now never cross.

Where is my pawn? Of course she died before me. Died trying to save my life before the creatures of the night devoured her, ripping her to pieces. I didn't stay to watch, I ran with her screams echoing in my ears. I hear her still, her voice cuts through the other disturbing noises in this place. She had been been my constant companion, my faithful helper through all our adventures. Without her I wouldn't have been able to face him.

The dragon...what's it for? Why has the Maker in his wisdom decided to curse our kind with this beast? Is it some sort of test?

Questions become less important as each beat of my hard won heart brings me closer to oblivion. They are close now, the creatures that inhabit this place, I see their red eyes glowing in the shadows, the rays of moonlight touching their glittering grinning teeth. Why do they hold back? They must know I cannot now stand against them. Why do they wait?

Then I see him. He appears by some conjuring trick, smoke billowing from his body. His cloak looks as though it is made from wisps of shadow given form. The whispers of forgotten voices trick my senses and make me believe for a moment that he is behind me. I see the light of his lantern grow brighter as he approaches. The scythe is closer still.

What happened to the sun? I left it behind to come here. I heeded the pleas of a mysterious woman who begged me for help. Was she a trap too? Is she no more than the servant of the master of this place?

There was a point I held out hope of rescue. But the woman, whether servant or prisoner, doesn't venture into this black, cursed playground. Then there was the man. I thought his help would be invaluable. He has lived here, he knows the ways of this place. But neither my poor pawn or myself could sway him. Even now, were he to appear, he would only stop briefly to gloat at my misfortune and carry on with the 'work' he dedicates his 'un'-life to.

The creatures here are unlike any I have ever encountered. They are attracted to the rotting carcasses of their comrades, glorifying in their death. Legion upon legion set on us as soon as we entered this place so soon we had no choice but to run. We should have run away, back to the little boat that brought us and put this island far behind us. Yet I felt something, from the depths, something that called to me and knew my name.

I should have heeded the other voices. The voices of the dead, warning me to turn back, to cut my losses and run. I do not doubt that my voice soon will join their choir.

The whispering becomes louder. I no longer seem to hear it solely through my ears. It echoes through my mind, mocking me. My vision blurs, yet I see clearly the light of his lantern grow brighter, the only other source of light in this dim place. Soon I can see nothing but his shadowy form getting ever closer. He swings back his scythe...

I am not afeared to die in this place. But I would not wish this fate on any other.


End file.
